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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24507793">Departing from Platform 12</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/P_lutonium/pseuds/P_lutonium'>P_lutonium</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Killing Eve (TV 2018)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Drama, Emotional Hurt, F/F, Fix It, How season 3 should have ended</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 06:42:35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,100</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24507793</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/P_lutonium/pseuds/P_lutonium</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Do you trust me, Eve?” </p><p>Standing on Liverpool Street Station, Eve realises that the happy ending she’d been chasing would only happen in fairy tails. All Eve wants now is answers.</p><p>- Or how I think season 3 should have ended. Follows on from 3x07 with some creative liberties.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>85</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The price of a meal-deal.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>1.</p>
<p>
  <em>“It’s not good for both of us.”</em>
</p>
<p>Eve felt like an invisible weight had dissipated from her shoulders at those two sentences. Her arms sagged and as she inhaled through the smell of sweat and diesel that permeated Liverpool Street Station, it was as if she was taking the first real breath of fresh air since she’d found Kenny dead outside Shadbourne House. </p>
<p>Her second thought was of whether Villanelle had had her number all along. It made sense, for an ex-spy- freelance spy? She hadn’t considered changing her number, even after everything that had happened in Rome.</p>
<p>She hadn’t recognised the number that had called her but it was a British mobile number. That didn’t mean it wasn’t borrowed, or stolen. </p>
<p>The arched glass ceilings of Liverpool Street Station made the entire building into a greenhouse, and the air was still humid and stagnant even though the sky beyond the glass was dark, or as dark as it got in Central London. The heat made the smell worse, along with the diesel and sweat she could smell coffee and stale food. Eve turned her nose up at it and looked back down the empty platform. </p>
<p>In her mind, she could still see the station back in Edinburgh. Every time she blinked she could see Villanelle waving at her through the window of a train that was swiftly departing the station. She’d managed to catch the next available train, only an hour behind Villanelle, and when she left Scotland it had been light, but the journey had been seven hours and now it was late.</p>
<p>Eve had left Konstantin laying on that platform in Scotland, she’d spared him a thought or two, but it hadn’t even crossed her mind to stay and wait with him. There were enough people around him to stop him from dying, Eve didn’t need to be there.</p>
<p>Old Eve probably would have stayed to help, made sure he made it to the hospital, and that he wasn’t dead. But Old Eve also wouldn’t have crushed the chest of a former KGB spy. </p>
<p>Old Eve would have called MI6 and told them where to find Dasha, she might have tried to interrogate her whilst she waited, from a safe distance. Old Eve was naive, she would have trusted the authorities to make everything right. She didn’t know that the whole damn organisation was corrupt, and they didn’t actually care about things being fair or right, they just cared about watching their own backs.</p>
<p>What would Villanelle think of New Eve? Eve had justified killing Raymond, she hadn’t had a choice, it was him or Villanelle, and the line between dying and living was so fine that she’d need a microscope to see it. But Dasha was unarmed, she was an old woman lying prone in the middle of a golf course in Edinburgh. </p>
<p>She didn’t know who New Eve was. </p>
<p>There was a sudden rush of air, accompanied by the high pitched squeal of brakes as another train pulled into the station. When the doors opened and the platform flooded with people Eve was shoulder barged by a fat man wearing a backpack that looked tiny on his broad shoulders. She stopped looking at the sky and stared distastefully at the back of his head as he walked away without looking back. She glanced back down at her phone and was met with her blank lock screen. </p>
<p>On a second glance at her phone, this time to check what the time was, Eve moved on. </p>
<p>She felt invigorated. The way that Villanelle had waved at her from the train had refueled the fire inside her that had started dwindling the further she felt she was getting from Villanelle, the phone call made her feel like someone had doused her with gasoline. This wasn’t one-sided, Eve wasn’t chasing a ghost.</p>
<p>Eve looked down the platform, expecting to see Villanelle waiting for her in an absurd outfit with a wolfish grin and smelling as powerful as she had on the train. Eve had looked for that scent, she’d spent an entire afternoon in Harrods smelling perfumes until the employees had politely asked her to leave if she wasn’t going to buy anything.</p>
<p>New Eve wished that she hadn’t handed over La Villanelle to MI6 when they’d first started hunting down Villanelle and the Twelve, when Kenny was still alive, Elena still spoke to her and things hadn’t gone tits up. </p>
<p>Admittedly, she probably wouldn't still be alive today if she hadn’t handed over that suitcase. Villanelle probably would have used her and killed her and her body would be floating in a river somewhere, or worse. </p>
<p>The platform cleared again before Eve began moving, convinced that Villanelle wasn’t going to appear waiting for her. She’d had at least an hour’s headstart and she was probably halfway across London by now.</p>
<p>Eve didn’t know if she was ready to see Villanelle yet anyway, she was sweaty and travel-worn. Her shoes were still stained with Scottish mud, she needed a glass of wine, a shower, and maybe a power nap. </p>
<p>Before she left the station she made her way into WHSmith, the only shop still open in this part of the station. Eve wasn’t surprised, it was almost midnight. The shop was empty, still unsurprising. </p>
<p>She went straight to the cooler, picking out the first sandwich on the shelf and completing the meal-deal with a bag of crisps and a bottle of full-fat coke. The price was still extortionate, but like in airports there was a captive audience, and Eve didn’t feel like traipsing around London in the middle of the night looking for a Tesco Express. </p>
<p>Eve approached the self-service machine, dropping her items onto the machine so she could scan them, only to realise that the machine was turned off, like the rest of them. </p>
<p>“Fuck.” She cursed under her breath, she wasn’t ready to interact with an actual person right now, not until she’d had a shower at least. </p>
<p>She glanced at her phone again, once more met with a blank lock screen, before she put the device in her pocket, pulled out a ten-pound note, and gathered the meal-deal. </p>
<p>Her heart leaped to her throat at the sight of the slim girl behind the counter. She had her back turned to Eve, replacing cartons of cigarettes in the case behind her, but Eve knew that shade of blonde. Her heart raced as she set the sandwich and crisps on the counter, then set the coke down so hard that it bounced onto its side and almost over the other side of the counter. </p>
<p>The woman turned back in time to catch it, and Eve felt like she’d suddenly been doused with cold water because she’d been ready, she’d been anticipating the catlike, delicate features of Villanelle but this girl had a crooked nose and a piercing over her eyebrow and she wasn’t Villanelle. </p>
<p>Her heart dropped and she felt ashamed as the girl scanned her items and tried to hide the pitiful looks she was giving Eve before she read out the total. Eve handed over the ten-pound note and received coins in change, a total rip off but she was too tired and too hungry to care. </p>
<p>Eve scurried from the shop with her change in one hand and the other clutching her purchases to her chest. On her way out she caught a glimpse of her reflection and she winced, she could see the bags under her eyes and the filth on her skin. </p>
<p>She shoved the change into her pocket and made a beeline for the closest bench. There was an old man in dirty clothing sat on one end of it with his head sagged into his chest and he was so still that he could be dead but Eve didn’t care. Eve wanted to go home. </p>
<p>The battery on her phone was almost dead, but she had enough charge to call for a taxi. Taking a tube or a train would be cheaper but Eve didn’t have the energy to deal with the bullshit of either. </p>
<p>She rang a taxi and ate her sandwich. It was chicken mayonnaise and it had clearly been sitting on the shelf all day because the salad leaves were wilted and the bread was soggy. Still, her mind was elsewhere and she didn’t spend much time contemplating her disappointing sandwich, even if it would have been cheaper and less depressing to just buy herself a loaf of bread and a packet of ham instead.</p>
<p>Once the shit sandwich was eaten, and the remains tossed in the bin, Eve made her way outside. It was starting to rain, which seemed to be just her luck, but the inside of the station had been so warm and the fresh air seemed to wake her up just enough to climb into the back of the taxi that pulled up in front of her.</p>
<p>The driver wasn’t British, he spoke with a heavy accent that Eve was struggling to understand as she fought to pull her seat belt across her chest. She manages to repeat her destination to him, but he seems to get the idea that she isn’t going to be much of a conversational partner during their trip because once they’re away from the station he turns up the radio. </p>
<p>Eve looks at her phone once more, still disappointed that the screen is blank even though she knows that realistically she shouldn’t expect Villanelle to call her again and there was a good chance that she’d disposed of the phone she’d used. She dropped her head against the window and even though the vibrations of the glass rattled around her brain she found her mind being drawn away from the lights and buildings that were whizzing past, distorted by the heavy drops of rain that were beginning to fall.</p>
<p>She briefly wondered how Niko was doing, she’d respected his wishes of ‘pissing off’. She owed him a lot more than she gave him credit for, he’d put up with far more bullshit than she ever would have in his position. She’d followed a Psychopath across Europe more than once, and he’d been caught up in whatever the fuck was going on between her and Villanelle more than once. The first time he’d gotten away with a few weeks in a mental hospital for PTSD after Villanelle had murdered Gemma right in front of him.</p>
<p>Eve had seen the crime scene report, it wasn’t the most spectacular or even the most gruesome kill, but she’d made a hobby of studying Villanelles kills. Some might say she got off on them. But poor Niko, he wasn’t prepared for it, and Eve had always worn the trousers in that relationship anyway, poor Niko couldn’t hurt a fly. </p>
<p>The second time he got in the way of whatever was going on between her and Villanelle he’d ended up with a pitchfork to the throat and he’d probably never speak again. He was stuck in St Pancreas Hospital and Eve was still more interested in finding Villanelle. </p>
<p>This kind of introspection just pissed her off, why had she settled for Niko in the first place? Was Old Eve out of her mind? </p>
<p>“We’re here.”</p>
<p>Eve heard the words but didn't acknowledge them until the cabby knocked hard on the perspex separating them and she sat bolt upright. “Right.” She agreed, glancing out the window and at the front of her apartment block. “How much?”</p>
<p>“75.” He replied. “Card or cash?”</p>
<p>She fished her wallet from her bag, counting out four twenty pound notes that she’d taken out of a machine in Edinburgh whilst she was waiting for her train. She placed them on the tray and reached for the door handle. “Keep the change.” </p>
<p>“Geez, thanks.” </p>
<p>“Asshole,” Eve muttered under her breath, opening the door and stepping out before she could hear his reply. </p>
<p>The rain had eased, but it left behind the pleasant smell of petrichor. She entered the complex, stepping over a fresh pile of vomit, then an old pile of vomit, and then she made her way up a short flight of concrete steps littered with fag butts before she finally reached her apartment. </p>
<p>Eve didn’t notice the music until she was standing outside her door, it wasn’t the usual bass-thumping shit that her neighbours liked to listen to in the middle of the night. She was immediately reminded of Paris, the tune was enchanting and melodic, and she was sure that when she concentrated on it that the lyrics were either in Italian or french.</p>
<p>Once she’d noticed the music she also noticed that though the curtains were drawn she could see light peeking through the gaps. Eve reached into her bag for her key, though the door was already unlocked and it swung open when she touched the handle. </p>
<p>Her heart was racing, her mind felt clear of any traces of sleep and she mentally took inventory of everything she had on her body to work out if she had a valid weapon. </p>
<p>After everything she’d been through it would probably make sense for her to carry at least a knife, but she hadn’t even considered it. </p>
<p>In the end, she didn’t need a weapon, because once the door swung open she could see exactly who had broken into her apartment. </p>
<p>
  <em>“Hello, Eve.”</em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hi there! I haven’t published any fan fictions for any genre in a very long time but following how season 3 actually ended I decided that even though I liked the episode I wasn’t happy with it, so I’m rewriting it. </p>
<p>I’m a little rusty, so you’ll have to bare with me, but I’d like to hear any feedback you have for me :)</p>
<p>This work is unbeta’d so please go easy on me, I started writing right after I watched the episode.</p>
<p>This first chapter is a little slow, but I promise the pace will pick up. </p>
<p>Pluto x</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The elegance of French Music.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>2.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All things considered, Eve wasn't as surprised to see Villanelle in her shitty one-room apartment as she should have been. She looked out of place and Eve couldn't help but compare the feeling to running into a celebrity in a public bathroom, which was ironic considering where they had first met. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The single light bulb dangling from the ceiling above the kitchen seemed to make her glow, and Eve was speechless. Everything she'd considered saying to Villanelle, both on the train ride and the taxi ride seemed inadequate or inappropriate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eve noticed the dishcloth in Villanelles' hand, and Eve's spotty apron that covered up her suit, which was an improvement from the Green Monstrosity that she had glimpsed on the train but still absolutely absurd for her shitty little flat in New Malden. She looked like she'd come straight from New York fashion week.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You look like shit, Eve," Villanelle said honestly, though her face betrayed her as a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her hair was down, and Eve realised that she'd never seen Villanelle with her hair down before. Every time they met it was scraped back in a bun, like her hair was armour. She looked younger with her hair down. Eve tried not to stare for too long, but even if she did she had a feeling that Villanelle wouldn't call her out for it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looked so young, yet so much older than the woman who had been chasing Frank around Bletcham. So much older than the woman that Eve had met in Paris, who Eve had stabbed in Paris. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That felt like a lifetime ago.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Asshole," Eve replied. She dropped her bag from her shoulder and kicked the door shut, closing out the outside world. It made her heart race standing face to face with Villanelle, both of them unarmed for once, though she guessed that there was always a kitchen knife within reach for Villanelle should Eve make any suggestion of being a threat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn't feel like being a threat, she was tired.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I've just spent seven hours on a train back from Scotland," she continued, rubbing her face with her hand. "I haven't slept in about three days because I've been trying to track you down and you've had my number the entire time?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"The last time we met you headbutted me." Villanelle reminded her, "I thought you were still angry about Rome." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the mention of Rome Eve felt the wound in her stomach twitch. She'd often laid in bed at night and wondered how similar their scars were.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she'd been healing, still angry at Villanelle for both Raymond and for shooting her, Eve had thought a lot about whether Villanelle considered them even now. A scar for a scar. It made sense in a twisted illogical way. Villanelle could have shot her in the heart and left her for dead on the floor of Villa Adriana. But Villanelle hadn't shot to kill, she'd given Eve a fighting chance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After their meeting on the bus, and Eve was convinced it was orchestrated, but she couldn't prove it. She'd worried that the head butting would start this twisted game off all over again. Except that wasn't the only thing she'd done to Villanelle on the bus. She'd kissed her too, and sure it was partly to get leverage but it was also because she'd been waiting to do it for so long that she needed to try it just once, in fear that Villanelle would disappear for good.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She could remember how pliant Villanelles lips felt against hers, and she could still feel how chapped they were. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Villanelle had been wearing a suit then too, but it wasn't as breathtaking as the one she wore under her apron now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm too tired to be angry," Eve admitted. Part of her was glad that Villanelle was here, it made her job so much easier because she was running out of ways to track her down. The other part wished that this could have waited until tomorrow so that this could go more like she'd imagined in her head; a battle of wits, trading snarky blows. "Why are you here Villanelle?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I made you dinner." Was the reply, lacking the harshness that the other words that Villanelle had spoken tonight carried. She spoke a little hesitantly, like she hadn't thought about saying the words out loud, and her eyes were actively searching Eve's face for a response.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eve looked past her to see the dishes still dripping on the drainer, as well as the pan waiting on the stove.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I thought you would take longer to get home so it isn't ready yet." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Villanelle wasn't here to take revenge for what had happened on the bus and Eve didn't know how to react to this. She'd also never imagined Villanelle as much of a chef, after finding the fridge full of champagne back in Paris she'd assumed that most of Villanelle's meals were take-away. Now she thought about it though it made sense that Villanelle cooked for herself, her entire body was a weapon and it needed to be maintained. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You should go for a shower." Villanelle said, "then dinner will be ready." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What are you making?" Eve asked as she removed her coat and hung it on the back of the door. She was in no state to argue with Villanelle and a shower did sound great even if she'd prefer to stay and interrogate Villanelle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe interrogate wasn't the right word, but she had so many questions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Villanelle stepped backward to hide the stove where she had been working. "It is a surprise, you'll find out when it is ready."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bathroom attached to her shitty apartment was equally shit. There was no bathtub, only a shower, a toilet and a sink, and there was barely any room to maneuver. Furthermore, even when she turned on the shower and the water spluttered pathetically from the head she could still hear music and the sound of Villanelle moving effortlessly around her small kitchen through the paper-thin walls. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She dropped all of her clothes into the laundry hamper stuffed between the sink and the shower, then realised that she hadn't brought any clean clothes into the bathroom with her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Fuck it." She muttered to herself, "I'll deal with that later." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was absurd, here she was taking a mediocre shower in the middle of the night while the woman she had been chasing for the better part of three years was less than ten steps away making her dinner, like it was a completely normal thing to happen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The water that ran from her body was a pale grey, and Eve tried to think about the last time she'd showered. The last time she could remember was a day before she left for Edinburgh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eve scrubbed her body hard, using a drugstore shower gel on her body and a two in one shampoo and conditioner on her hair. She thought about shaving, then questioned herself on why that thought had even occurred, and contemplated brushing her teeth but also ruled it out because she was about to eat dinner. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her mind kept turning over all the reasons why Villanelle would be here, killing her seemed unlikely, she'd had the chance in Rome but had decided not to take it. The scar to the left-hand side of her belly reminded her about that. Toying with her was a possibility, but then why would Villanelle go to all that effort of buying her groceries and cooking her dinner? She had a billion other reasons but none of them seemed realistic. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Was it about sex? She knew that Villanelle was interested in women, and probably men. Eve had only fleetingly entertained questions about her own sexuality, she could conclusively say that though she could appreciate women for their beauty and their charm, most of her attention was on men, though not since Villanelle. That made Villanelle an exception, not a rule. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She'd touched herself more times than she'd like to admit to thoughts about Villanelle. Eve had came more thinking about Villanelle than she had during her entire marriage with Niko, what did that say about her?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Eve! You can come out now, dinner is almost ready."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>'Fuck.' Eve thought. Why had she just been thinking about touching herself to thoughts of the woman she was about to sit down and have a meal with? Sometimes she wondered if she was just a secret sadist, then she stopped thinking about it because she wasn't sure she'd like the answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She cut that line of thinking dead before her anxiety had a chance to manifest itself, she'd managed to keep the impending feeling of dread out of her mind for a few hours and her cuticles thanked her for it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her therapist would tell her that this was a terrible idea, but then Eve had fired her therapist after she suggested that Eve was a borderline Sociopath. Maybe she was, but she didn't need to hear it from a stranger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Okay. Turn around, I don't have any clothes in here and I'm wearing a towel." Eve reached for the towel hung over the radiator, wrapping it tightly around her middle before cracking the door a little. "Have you turned around?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Villanelle hadn't turned around. She was standing there holding a spatula and staring unabashedly at Eve. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Old Eve would have shrieked and slammed the door again, but then Old Eve also wouldn't have been comfortable showering in such proximity to a serial killer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Liar," Eve replied, slipping out of the bathroom and slinking towards her draws. They were mostly empty, she'd brought very few clothes with her after she'd moved from the house, and most of them were in the laundry hamper in the bathroom. All she had left was an old turtleneck sweater and a pair of sleep shorts. Eve wasn't surprised. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're very beautiful Eve," Villanelle said. Though Eve wasn't looking at the younger woman she could hear the honesty in her voice and feel her eyes on the back of her neck, it made her stomach flip, and a blush creep up her chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was the honesty that got to her, when Villanelle wasn't playing a character she was always brutally honest. It scared Eve. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"If you don't turn around now you're never going to see me naked," Eve warned her, emboldened by the compliment. Her heart was racing, she didn't think it had stopped racing since Villanelle had called her just over an hour ago. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That's rude." Villanelle replied, "I have seen you naked from behind before." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eve flipped her the bird over her shoulder, then glanced back briefly to see that Villanelle had already turned around. Eve took that little victory and got herself dressed as quickly as she could. She hung her towel around her shoulders and crossed the tiny apartment to the kitchen. "Are you going to tell me what we're eating?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The grin that crept over Villanelles face was predatory and concerning, "I hope you like Shepherds Pie.”</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I was trying to keep the reunion to one chapter but everything just got away from me so I’ve split it into two. Sorry to keep you waiting.</p><p>I’ve also changed a few minor canon details so that they made more sense, especially Eve’s scar.</p><p>Again, this is unbeta’d so please excuse any mistakes. </p><p>Any feedback is great fully received.</p><p>Pluto x</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <ol>

</ol><p>Eve could feel the blood rushing past her ears, and she looked at Villanelle with an expression that was a mix of disbelief and disgust. The tips of her fingers felt like static on a television and Eve felt like a vice was closing around her chest, squeezing the life out of her. </p><p>Really? Shepherds Pie.</p><p>Was this all still a game? Had Villanelle learned nothing from Rome.</p><p>“You’re an asshole.” Eve snarled when she finally swallowed past the dry lump in her throat. “A fucking asshole.” </p><p>Villanelle looked wounded briefly, then her face cracked and she laughed. </p><p>The sound was so familiar, it reminded Eve of when Villanelle had sat her down and told her to take the poison that turned out to be sugar pills. </p><p>“Oh Eve.” Villanelle said pitifully through her cackling, “I was just messing with you.” </p><p>“It’s not funny.” Eve snapped in reply. </p><p>The wounded look returned, Eve caught a glimpse of the walls behind Villanelles eyes lowering for a split second, and Eve saw pain. She wanted to ask, but she didn’t want to chase it away either. If she wanted any semblance of a real conversation with Villanelle then she needed to proceed like she was treating a wounded animal. </p><p>“We’re having Salmon,” Villanelle replied. Her voice tone monotonous again and Eve could see her rebuilding her barriers. </p><p>Alarm gripped her and Eve searched through her internal dictionary to try and find the right words to say that would stop Villanelle shutting her out. She pulled out her chair and sat down, hoping to appear non threatening, “I like Salmon.” </p><p>“I couldn’t tell,” Villanelle replied satirically, turning her back on Eve and returning to the grill to remove a tray. Eve noticed how her hair seemed to shine under the dim light of the kitchen, she wondered briefly how Villanelle kept it looking so perfect all the time. “The only thing in your fridge was a bottle of wine. I had to go to the shop.” </p><p>Eve tried to imagine Villanelle walking through the aisles of a supermarket. She’d probably use a basket, Eve doubted she stayed in one place long enough to need more groceries than would fit in a basket. The mental image of Villanelle in Tesco Express wearing that suit with a basket hanging from her arm was almost too much.</p><p>“You should take better care of yourself Eve.” </p><p>“I don’t spend much time at home.” Eve replied defensively, “I’ve been staying with a friend since the last time you broke into my apartment.” Villanelle probably already knew that if she’d been keeping tabs on Eve, though over the last few days Villanelle had probably lost track of her considering how many air miles Eve had used up.</p><p>Villanelle perked up as Eve mentioned the last break-in, “did you enjoy my gift?”</p><p>As she spoke she turned around with two plates in her hands, they didn’t match because Eve didn’t own a matching set of china - what was the point it wasn’t like she was hosting dinner parties in an apartment where she could see the kitchen from her bed. </p><p>It looked good, and Eve felt her mouth begin to water as Villanelle set their plates down. Eve also noticed that the kitchen table - which was round and white and didn’t match anything in the apartment and had probably come from IKEA but had been in the apartment when she’d moved in - had been cleared of letters, newspapers, and case files. She wondered if Villanelle had peaked at any of it, whether she’d made any commentary on the gruesome pictures of murders that Eve had been collecting in hopes of finding something that held Villanelle's hallmarks. </p><p>“It was unexpected,” Eve admitted, hoping that Villanelle hadn’t been snooping around her apartment because she would have found that stupid plastic speaker underneath her pillow. “This looks good. I didn’t take you for much of a chef.”</p><p>“I did two weeks of chef training a few years ago.” Villanelle replied, “It was for a job, he was a restaurant critic.” She took off Eve's apron and slung it over the counter behind her and Eve took a moment to admire the suit she was wearing. It looked expensive, definitely worth more than a month's rent, the colourful mosaic pattern hugged her curves and complimented her body. </p><p>“What do you think I would be doing if I’d refused?” </p><p>Eve couldn’t think of an answer, every time she’d tried to imagine Villanelle living a normal life her mind came up blank. She would never last a day in an office, she didn't play well with others. </p><p>“An interior designer maybe?”</p><p>“No.” Eve disagreed with a chuckle, “I saw your apartment in Paris.” </p><p>Villanelle’s eyebrows both rose to her forehead. “When you trashed the place?” </p><p>“I was mad at you,” Eve replied defensively, picking up her cutlery and cutting into the salmon. Her knife sliced through the flesh without challenge, juices ran over the mashed potato and onto the plate. “Life would have been a lot easier if you’d refused.” </p><p>“Do you want easier?” Villanelle replied. She still hadn’t picked up her cutlery, Old Eve would be worried that she’d been poisoned but New Eve knew better; she could see Villanelle's tongue caught between her lips, and she could see Villanelle shifting subtly in her seat. She was nervous. </p><p>Eve shrugged, bringing her fork to her mouth and wrapping her lips around the fish. It was as tender and succulent as it looked and Eve wondered why she didn’t eat more food like this because this was incredible. She muffled a moan with another mouthful, chewing thoughtfully before she replied. </p><p>“I try not to think about it.”</p><p>“Hmm.” Villanelle hummed in agreement. Eve’s fork faltered on the Amy back to her plate as she was transfixed by the way Villanelle ate. Watching her eat was a juxtaposition to every other aspect of her being. Her elbows were splayed across the small table and she hunched over her plate like someone was going to steal it from her. It reminded her of the first time that Villanelle had let herself into Eve’s home, when they’d shared leftover Shepherds Pie. </p><p>“Niko is in hospital.” Eve said quietly, to change the subject to something less heavy. “Dasha stabbed him with a pitchfork and tried to blame it on you.” </p><p>Villanelle faltered momentarily but ultimately decided that she wasn’t going to respond, though Eve could see her hand tightening around her knife.</p><p>“I was so angry.” </p><p>Still no response, but Eve wasn’t expecting one anyway. She didn’t want to talk about her ex-husband. She followed Villanelles lead and tucked into her dinner, suddenly ravenous. The soft but elegant foreign music filled the space where their conversation should be, but none of this felt awkward.</p><p>It was no surprise that Villanelle finished first, the rate at which she’d wolfed down her dinner had made Eve concerned that she was going to choke on it.</p><p>“I would never touch Niko.” Villanelle replied, “He’s off-limits.” </p><p>Eve hummed around her last mouthful of potato. “I know.” </p><p>“Do you ever think about the past?” </p><p>“Do you?” </p><p>Villanelle’s nod was almost imperceivable, reaching for her napkin and wiping her mouth. “All the time.” There was more, Eve could see that there was more. Then Villanelles shoulders dropped and her words became quiet, “I’ve killed so many people, Eve.” </p><p>It felt like the world had stopped turning, or that time had slowed down because Eve couldn’t hear anything but her own soft breathing; even the elegant French music in the background seemed to fade out. </p><p>Villanelles eyes had gone glassy, her nose and cheeks took on a soft shade of red. She was laying it out on the table for Eve to see. “I know.” She was overcome with the urge to crawl over the table and gather Villanelle into her arms, but she didn’t want to push it. </p><p>“What happened?”</p><p>“A couple were sitting on the train next to me,” Villanelle elucidated softly, “they were old, really old.” Eve could hear a hitch in her breath as Villanelle chuckled softly. “But they seemed happy, with each other, they seemed happy with each other even though they were old and wrinkled. Do you want that?”</p><p>Eve felt like the air was being vacuumed from her lungs, and that Villanelle was looking straight into her soul. “What happened?” </p><p>“Do you want to be like that Eve?” Villanelle repeated in a whisper, sounding almost desperate. She spoke more to her empty plate than to Eve, but Eve would take whatever she could get.</p><p>“Not anymore,” Eve admitted, she didn’t know if that was what Villanelle wanted to hear but she wanted to be honest, with both of them. “We’d never make it that long.” </p><p>Villanelles breath hitched again, her lips pursed and she breathed in and out slowly like she was trying to get herself together and patch up her walls before they crumbled completely.</p><p>“We’d consume each other before we got old.” </p><p>Villanelles eyes widened and her head snapped up. “I like the sound of that.” </p><p>The woman in front of her wasn’t the same one that she’d tried to escape Rome with. That woman had been possessive and selfish. </p><p>This woman was vulnerable and nervous.</p><p>What had happened in the last six months that Villanelle had changed so fundamentally? </p><p>“So do I.” </p><p>The air felt like it was changed with static, and Eve was sure that she was seconds away from crawling over the table to get to Villanelle because Damn, when did dinner get so Erotic?</p><p>She didn’t have a chance to get up from her seat before the quiet was shattered by the generic chime of an iPhone ringtone and any sign of vulnerability on Villanelles' face fell away as she reached into her pocket for her phone. Her lips turned up into a snarl as she looked at the caller ID before she rose from her chair and made her way outside.</p><p>Eve tried to catch her breath, clutching the edge of the table with white knuckles as her mind replayed everything that had just happened at warp speed. </p><p>She could hear Villanelle talking outside the door, her voice moving further and closer as she paced. Eve felt dirty for trying to listen in and she stood up abruptly. Her hands trembled as she collected their used plates to take them to the sink, and they were still trembling when she heard the door open again. </p><p>Eve felt vulnerable with her back to Villanelle, though she no longer had the anticipation of getting a knife to the spine. “Is everything okay?” She asked, hoping her voice didn’t betray her.</p><p>“Yes.” Her tone was flat again, no longer breathy or hesitant. “I need to go.”</p><p>“Where?” Eve turned around desperately, body betraying her brain as it went to war with her heart. </p><p>Villanelle laughed, “I’ll be back Eve.” </p><p>“When?” </p><p>“Soon.” Villanelle promised, “We’re not safe yet.”</p><p>Would they ever be safe? Eve wasn’t sure that safe even existed anymore. There was always a monster waiting in the dark, hiding under the bed or in the closet.</p><p>“Take this.” Villanelle fished something out of her pocket and held it out to her expectantly. Eve’s legs felt like they were made of jelly as she rounded the table to meet Villanelle at the door. </p><p>“What is it?” It was a piece of paper, but it didn’t mean anything to Eve, was it a number? A place?</p><p>Villanelle bit her bottom lip and stuffed her hands in her pockets. “Freedom. Do you trust me, Eve?”</p><p>Did she? Her heart was in her throat and Eve felt like the answer to the question would make or break her. After everything, did she trust Villanelle? To put her life in the hands of a psychopath with more secrets than truths. </p><p>The music faded out, silence seeped into the apartment but Eve was sure that Villanelle could hear her heart beating like a drum in her chest. </p><p>“Yes.” </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. It’s a little longer than I intended but I didn’t want to break it down into two parts.</p><p>I’d love to hear any feedback you have.</p><p>Pluto x</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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